


Bodies of the Damned

by FurorNocturna, GingerCoast



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Warm Bodies (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Broken schedule, Christine is a sweetheart, F/F, Filipino/Tagalog!Michael, Jeremy is A+++ at being a charismatic zombie, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Totally, Warm Bodies AU, alternating pov, so is brooke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-03-13 09:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13567395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FurorNocturna/pseuds/FurorNocturna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerCoast/pseuds/GingerCoast
Summary: An unidentified outbreak has ravaged the world, dividing it between the Living and the Undead. Two sides competing for survival; kill the other before they kill you. Simple, right? Or so you'd think.J is a zombie with only a letter to his name and little memory of anything else. However, a chance encounter presents the unique opportunity for him to gain the answers to remembrance and possibly more.A pretty human named Michael.**While on a scavenging run, Michael is confronted with a shocking reunion with a familiar face and his perceptions brought into question. Was he just deluding himself to avoid facing a harsh reality, or was there really a chance his best friend isn't completely lost?That all depends if he can get him to remember.A Warm Bodies AU





	1. Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A typical day in the life of J.

God, what am I doing with my life? 

I'm pale, hardly get out at all, and my posture sucks ass. Maybe if I were more put together, others might like me more. Oh wait. I'm dead. Well, undead, but the point is, I'm no longer living. We all are here. That chick. That man in that corner definitely is. All zombies. _Corpses_.

I don't remember how I became like this, but it fucking sucks. With how many video games I used to play, I figured I'd last longer than I did. Wait, was that a memory? I don't know anymore. All I remember of my own name is it started with “J”. I don’t really understand why I hold onto that letter so much, but I’m guessing it’s because I seriously want to connect with others, like ‘Hey! I’m J, let’s be friends!’. 

It’s boring stumbling around the airport, hearing groans and footsteps from fellow Corpses. Apart from playing “Guess Who?” by myself what others used to be before they became undead, the only interesting thing in this dead airport would maybe be those boney, gangrenous creatures in the corner, gagging with their spit tangling from their chin to the floor and littered head to toe in circuit-like electrical scars.

I call them Squips. After a while, all of us Corpses eventually turn into those…electricity-zapping undead attackers, that just kill anything that moves with a heartbeat… 

I barely sense myself shudder. Interesting? Yes. Creepy as all hell? Also yes.

Sometimes I would see their heads flinch every now and then, like they were…glitching? If you were dumb enough to somehow piss one of them off, they'd emit this ungodly shriek, unhinging their jaw to do so, and contort their body into impossible shapes. That'd also be the last thing you ever saw. Even compared to us Corpses, they were inhuman and feral. It's an unspoken rule to steer clear of Squips at all costs.

...I'm not sure why I call them that, Squips. Not like my memory's the most reliable thing in the world, and it's not like I can really ask anyone else around here about it. I wouldn’t really know if the other pale creatures around me also called them Squips, as all of us can barely stumble a few words in before resorting back to our unintelligible hunger-filled groans.

My glazed-over eyes spotted a familiar face. Well, more like hair and clothes. Normally most of our facial structures fucking decompose to some degree to something a bit less determinable or something along those lines. I don’t remember ecology that well (or was it biology?). Who would in this hell? I think her name was… C.. E? Something like that, but I for sure know she’s female, because of her long dirty brunette hair and busty figure. She was one of the Corpses I was actually able to speak to a little, aside from R.

I would have guessed from her overly preppy torn clothes, that she was a high schooler, like me (at least I think I’m a high schooler… What are they again?). I’m thinking she may be one of those top trio, bitchy popular girls who laughed every time she saw a poor unfortunate soul get pushed into a locker. But that was the least of my concerns right now.

A shorter zombie with a red hair streak slouched on a chair next to C-E. He was, well…the other zombie I could semi-communicate with, wearing torn clothes and baggy jeans with a belt that’s practically just lingering trash stuck to him. If I were still living, I would probably gag at the amount of blood around his mouth; not that he can clean it off without possibly clawing himself, but still. I would maybe expect him to be… a young wrestler? A schoolyard bully? Take your pick.

That's R that I mentioned before. Don't be fooled by his height. He's 5’5” of pure terror when we go out to feed. Ugh. I had to remind myself my diet consists of cannibalizing organs from the Living again. I don't like it, hate it in fact, but the primal instinct of self-preservation wins out morality when you're a zombie. A sad fact of this forsaken “life” I now lead. Speaking of which…

“Huuuh…Huuun…gry,” I groan out. It's one of the few actual words I've managed to use on my vocal chords instead of just inside my head (which was pretty upsetting). C-E and R lolled their heads my direction. From the looks they gave me, it seems the feeling was unanimous. How I could tell? I just knew.

“Sssss…Ciii…ty,” R moaned back. C-E gave an awkward nod and grunted her agreement.

Before long, the three of us and several others formed a small hoard and set out for the nearby city area. That's where a group of survivors made a settlement. They're also our main food source unless they kill you first. Not that I blame them. We’re all trying to survive this new crap-sack world.

The only problem is our destination’s some distance from the airport. Already ten or so minutes have passed, and we've only trudged a whopping total of fifteen feet from the exit.

…God, we walk slow.

This is gonna take a while…


	2. Meet the Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worldview from the humans' perspective. More specifically, from the eyes of Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Chappie and New POV!
> 
> Edit 2/7/18:: Did some more polishing and slight rewriting on the chapter. —FurorNocturna

I saw multiple guys wandering around, holding weapons or standing ready for any form of attack. They were on high-alert, as per usual, despite being inside the concrete walls of safety.

I sigh dramatically as myself, along with a small group of people walked over to the exit, flashing our passes to the guard. Before the doors would even open though, we had to watch the standardized video explaining how the zombies weren’t humans, couldn't be reasoned with, shoot on sight, signs of infection, _blah blah blah blah_. I tend not to focus much on the video anymore after having seen it numerous times. Brooke grimaced.

“Do we seriously have to rewatch this, over and over again?” she groaned.

Brooke Lohst wasn’t necessarily someone I met before the apocalypse, but that isn’t to say she wasn’t important in my life. She generated feelings of remorse and empathy no matter the circumstances, still had cherished smiles, and made inappropriate dick jokes to try lightening the general somber mood of our now dystopian world. Oftentimes, she ranted about her high school years before this, which lead to many groans of frustration, or cries of nostalgia for high school. I would be a little annoyed by her antics at the moment, since we were going out into what we called “the Uncharted” (aka the area outside our walled safe zone where the zombies were rampant) where we could possibly die, but instead I felt more relieved that she could still be her lovable childish self where many have become jaded. Including my boyfriend.

Dustin Kropp was, well, my boyfriend of 2 years. We started dating a little before this whole zombie thing had occurred. Dustin used to be all smiles and didn’t mope around being pessimistic about how the world was gonna end. Nowadays, he just couldn't muster up the courage to care about much of anything anymore. At least he still cared about the safety of others, but that resulted in him being commanding, or making bold reckless moves to try and 'be the hero' when things get hairy. I both admired and detested this about him.

Another person who was hardened by the whole apocalypse ordeal was my mom, Colonel Mell. She’s the leader of our survivor settlement. Like Dustin, her soft smile was replaced with a near permanent frown and her former laid-back attitude became that of a strict drill sergeant. Around here, her word is law, no exceptions. I hardly even see her anymore face-to-face, she’s so busy running our walled community. It was only by a miracle she even allows me and my friends join the forces helping out defending and scavenging. I will say playing countless hours of video games, especially my favorite _Apocalypse of the Damned_ , for hours on end finally paid off in giving me exceptional eye-hand coordination, and while it took a little getting used to the real deals back when I was in training, handling a real knife and gun came fairly naturally to me. A good thing, since otherwise Mom would’ve had me under permanent house arrest.

The only other person in our scavenging group I knew personally was Christine Canigula, who was also probably the closest friend I still had. She was similar to Brooke, except thankfully more PG with her humor, especially in front of the surviving children of the apocalypse (which were, 5? Maybe 7, kids?). Sadly enough, her demeanor from the past has faltered somewhat, though fortunately not to the point of being insufferable. It was depressing to watch the transition of ultimate thespian Christine rambling non-stop about Shakespeare and musicals, to just cracking some forced jokes to share in providing the optimism. I couldn’t blame her; Armageddon more often than not will change a person. When was the last time she watched or even mentioned something theater-related anyway?

Well, probably since the last time I played a video game, which was a few years or so ago when the Internet and most power sources stopped working. All electricity we’ve managed to get working since has been reserved for the absolute necessities for survival.

“Helllllloooo? Earth to Michael Mell?” Christine waved. It was near the end of the video, so I think it’s safe to assume I zoned out for a bit.

“Maybe if we leave him here, we can steal his guns.” Brooke giggled softly, causing Dustin to roll his eyes with a huff.

“This is the apocalypse, do you think it’s really time to joke about stealing?” Dustin asked glumly. I couldn’t help but feel a small needle in my heart. Just about every time he spoke was a reminder of how much he’s changed.

“I mean, that’s what we’re gonna do....” Brooke pointed out, gesturing to nothing in particular.

Brooke’s remark seemed to peeve Dustin off more. He opened his mouth to probably tell her off, before closing it and instead simply rolling his eyes again.

“Guys, now’s not the time to act like angsty teenagers, the video ended,” Christine lifted her finger to the now blank screen, “and the guards are about to open the door.” Finishing her sentence, Dustin, Brooke, and I, both snapped our gazes to the door.

A guard casually opened the door, dismissing Dustin and Brooke’s act of immaturity. The Uncharted's more pungent air of rot and decay hit us like a smack in the face.

Christine made a gagging sound. “Suddenly, I wish I passed on this operation.”

“Too bad. It was a order, not a request.” Dustin said, not catching on to the lightheartedness of Christine’s joke.

Brooke mouthed a " _Why_ _are_ _dating_ _him_?" to me for the 24th time today, and I just gave her a glare in response. Sure Dustin is widely disliked in our group for being bossy and an overall wet blanket, but he was still my significant other. However, it was a unfortunately question I was truly beginning to wonder myself.

As soon as we were cleared to leave and the door seal shut behind us, we were fast on the move. Today’s objective? Restocking supplies. More specifically, medical supplies, since we were getting dangerously low on those. Fortunately, there was an old deserted hospital not too far from home and not yet completely raided. Regardless, we tried to keep our trips efficient but short, and to avoid any potential encounters with the undead. I’d be lying if I said slaying zombies wasn’t a little fun, but this wasn’t a video game where you could restart the level if you or your friends died. The less interactions we have, the less chance we’re at risk of losing anyone. Exactly the way I prefer it to be.

“I got bandages over here,” I heard Brooke call from one corner of the room we were in.

“Good! Shove it in the bags!” Christine shouted. From the corner of my eye I could see her shoving random medical pill bottles down her plastic bag.

I glanced back over to the bag I held, and, unlike Christine, checked the labels of the many pill-bottles on the shelves. Lucky for us, the majority of them hadn't expired.

“Dustin! Get off your ass and help out.” Christine cursed quietly, Dustin rolled his eyes and continued playing his Game Boy, sitting against the counter of one of the shelves. I was about to scold him myself for being a hypocrite ("focus on the mission", my ass) when Brooke shushed us again.

“You guys hear that!?”

“Hear what?” Christine asked.

“We… We should leave..” Brooke stated. Christine and I didn’t protest.

We grabbed our bags as the footsteps neared quicker. I looked around, making sure our whole group was here, but...

I turned around. “Dustin! Get over here!” I yelled, seeing his grip on the bat tighten as he approached the door.

“We’re not here to be heroes!” Brooke chimed in after noticing Dustin wasn't following the group.

“We came here on a mission.” Dustin replied smugly, almost like he was trying to imitate those heroic lone-wolf badass movie characters.

Multiple protests were silenced as the door slammed open.

There were one, maybe two screams, I couldn’t remember for sure, but what I could do was whip out my gun.

So I did, but my hands quivered as I heard one of our groupmates scream as a zombie jumped them and clawed at him. How I so wished that raiders were the ones making those footsteps and not zombies at the moment.

I couldn’t tell where the rest of my group was. However, there was blood beginning to leak from two areas and that meant two of us were already dead. Corpses don't bleed, after all.

Dustin…

 _Where the hell was Dustin?!_ He was right at the front of the door where is he?! I looked around frantically, but still no signs of him. Please tell me he isn't–!

There was a zombie emerging from a gray table, now splattered with blood.

What I saw next I couldn’t believe.

My eyes surely had to be deceiving me.

Tattered and bloodstained as they were, it wore the same dumb blue cardigan, striped shirt and jeans outfit he loved. Had the same mess of wavy brown locks he called hair. It even had his same, albeit dead, blue eyes, but I wouldn’t dare let myself fall for it. I couldn’t.

There was no way that Corpse was him.

Or so I told myself.

Either way, the name found its way tumbling out of my mouth along with unwitting tears.

“...Jeremy…?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Read and Review
> 
> Comments make an author's world go round. Please let us know of any spelling mistakes or ways we can improve in other areas to make this better and a more enjoyable reading experience!


	3. Feeding Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our two leads get acquainted.

Finally.

We made it our local feeding center. About goddamn time.

Of course, I'm still pretty conflicted about wanting to feel human brains inside my mouth like any other time, but man, that trek took FOREVER. Guess my impatience is winning out.

Glancing around at my group, we walked up the stairs to the room that smelled, really, good. The one where the human scent was coming from. The _Living_ kind.

R caught my eye, looking absolutely ravenous. It seemed he was about ready to bounce on that door and chomp on some flesh. He was practically drooling, which mind you, looks really gross with the dry blood still around his mouth. _Do I have blood around_ my _mouth?_ I wondered. Does R know he even has blood around his mouth? Where’s that uh, reflective thingy when you need it?

I wonder if zombies can do things out of habit, like, you’ve done things so much that, when you turn into a corpse you just can’t help but do that again? Like how the undead security guard waved that handheld metal detector whenever you passed him by back at the airport, or how C-E always tries walking farther than the group to seem like the leader. That, or she’s just really, really, hungry.

I wonder if I did anything my past self liked doing. I mean... I like collecting stuff, so what if my alive self ate… _Brains_...

No no, shut up hunger. I’m trying to find out my past. Wait actually, Brains rings a bell. Which is ironic, since I really wanna eat one right now. What was that thing I thought was from my past? Oh well. Whatever.

C-E glanced at me in confusion. Or was that just her head tilting my direction involuntarily on its own? Either way, it made me realize I was looking at her for too long. That didn’t matter too much though. I’m a zombie; I don’t have manners besides eating humans.

That didn’t matter, R was already pushing the door with all of his 5’5" mass.

The moment we broke down the door, it was chaos. Gunshots fired here and there, some striking us down while others missed us entirely. R and C-E tackled one person in some corner to the ground, no doubt scoring their meal from the blood spraying across the wall and gargled death rattle. As I turned my attention back to the other Living, I found myself oddly distracted by one of them.

The one with tanned skin, a decorated red hoodie, dark fluffy hair, jeans, glasses, and bright brown eyes.

I had seen these traits before on other Living and never paid it any mind, but for some reason, all these features on this one were incredibly pleasing to me. I felt this strange pull towards this human. He was…special. _Pretty_.

However, the pretty human didn’t keep my attention off the guy who was now pointing a bat at my face. I didn't like that. So, with the help of gravity I swung my arm to knock the bat away (ouch that hurt, why do bats have to be so hard?). It took him by surprise, as the bat somehow fumbled out of his hands even though his grip seemed pretty tight on that. Still, the attack didn’t stop whoever the fuck he was from running off to retrieve the weapon. Can't have that now.

I quickly took advantage of the distraction and grabbed his arm, biting into it hard, causing the dude to scream at the sudden pain.

Another point to J!

J=2, Random dinner=0.

I practically chewed his arm off before the guy seemed to lose balance out of blood loss and tripped, knocking his head onto a nearby table. Another success, as the dude seemed to be knocked out.

The screaming and blood spilling of the others meeting the same fate seemed to disappear as my only focus was to start eating this guy. Unlike C-E and R, I didn’t wanna be seen doing something so awful, so dragged him underneath the parallel table the guy knocked his head on for some privacy.

I quietly apologized as I proceeded to maul the guy’s throat before moving on to the entrails main course, killing him instantly. I never like my food knowing it's gonna die or to suffer needlessly, so I make my kills as swift and painless as possible. That, or make sure my meal’s unconscious and oblivious to it all like for this guy.

Only once I've finished the other organs do I go for the brain. It's necessary to consume the brain to prevent him from becoming like one of us, so it's another mercy on my part, but I always save the brain for last. Call it cliché, but it really does taste the best. Not to mention allows me to see the person's memories, much like how humans would experience dreams. Best of all, the sensation allows for something I as a Corpse can't experience any other way: it makes me feel less dead inside.

 

***

_The first memory that flashed through my vision was sitting on a few bean bags with the pretty human sitting next to me, we were mindlessly pressing buttons on the controller while my vision turned to see the pretty human._

I felt the corners of my mouth rise upward. I couldn’t help but cringe. Normally every time I moved my anything it felt disgusting. Not to mention varying degrees of rigor mortis making any unnecessary movement hard as hell. The only exception was for while I was feeding, yet that didn't feel like the only reason here. All I could figure was it had something to do with the pretty human.

Though, that now begs the other million dollar questions: Why was the pretty human in this person’s memory? Who was the person I was eating?

Let’s just hope the memories can answer some of them.

_“Dustin, how are you liking Apocalypse of The Damned so far?” the pretty human asked._

Huh…

So the person I’m eating’s name is Dustin.

I couldn’t help but feel weird. No matter how many brains I eat, I couldn’t help but feel awkward seeing memories from the person I’m _eating’s_ perspective. I mean, sure, I get to feel alive, but in return, I also feel more emotion, predominantly guilt for having eaten them. The memories themselves of my meals, be they really heartwarming or really depressing depending on the person and types of lives they lived, only increased the feeling.

 _“It’s pretty sweet! Loving the controllers!” I- no,_ Dustin _, smiled warmly at the pretty human._

That’s strange. I feel, like, something. This is new. Never experienced this emotion before. Is this how Dustin was feeling? Something weird for the pretty human?

_“The concept of fighting zombies is amazing in itself.” the pretty human grinned, his eyes practically sparkled as he began his rant on the game._

Rude. Zombies have feelings too.

_Distantly I feel Dustin nod along while still having that happy-go-lucky grin on his face, almost like it was plastered on his face, until I felt it drop when the pretty human started saying:_

_“Yeah. You know I’m not sure if you met my best friend yet!” The pretty human began._

_Dustin’s smile seemed to wipe off his face._

I felt another feeling I didn’t recognize, it was close to sadness, but it was like, angry at the same time.

_“But we used to play AoTD all the time, maybe we can all play it together one day!! Actually, didn’t I talk to you about Jeremy-”_

And then the memory switched.

Huh.

Typically, the memory switches when it’s something the person doesn’t like, which is kind of how I felt like at the end.

Ah well…

Not like I care.

_This new memory flashes on a train, I recognized this as a school bus. It reminded me of similar memories from another person I ate. Madeline something, I think her name was. She had a lot of memories about school buses, which is a little sad because normally the memories I see are the most happy things the humans have felt._

_Anyways, Dustin was once again, with the pretty human._

Are they like, blood-linked or something? Maybe that’s why they spend so much time together.

That would be weird though, normally Madeline didn’t feel all tingly around her blood-link.

_"Máhál kitá."_

_"What?"_

Huh?

_“Dustin, I… I love you.” the pretty human said._

Wait...

So they’re not blood-linked.

Weird. Normally couples do that–

_“Dustin, are you paying attention? Don’t just leave me hanging…” the human weakly joked. I could practically taste the anticipation and worry traced within his voice._

_“Michael, I… I love you too.” I felt Dustin grinning._

J= 0, Random Meal= 100

Oh.

Of fucking course out of all the people I ate, it HAD to be the one who was the lover of the pretty human! Of course I had to fuck it up and eat someone who actually, well, _mattered_ to other people. I'm such a jackass.

Well, it wasn’t really my fault I guess. I couldn't've known before now and Dustin was the first to try attacking, but my point still stands!

I guess I have to pretend I don’t feel like shit for now. No sooner had I said that my thoughts and emotions were floated with the next memory.

_The next scene was overly bright, then I realized the person I was looking through was staring at…. A TV? No wait, it was like a TV, it kept playing over and over again about this random pixel thingy stumping on what looked like turds with legs and eyes._

_Then Dustin looked down and I could see him furiously turning a… door knob? Sure, a door knob thingy in all different directions in addition to pressing four buttons that were to the left of the door knob._

I tried shaking off the guilt I suddenly felt again over using Dustin’s name. This was your time to pretend to be happy for a minute J! Stop being so mopey!

 _“Dustin! You can’t spend all of our date playing in the arcade!” the familiar voice called out_. _The pretty human, Michael. At least, it sounded as pretty as Michael._

_Dustin seemed to melt at the sound of his lover’s voice, a calming relaxed ease set upon him after his 26.5 loss at that random shiny moving thing._

Though I was a little confused on why they were spending calendars on the ‘arcade’. What is arcade? Or who–

_Dustin took his eyes off the screen thankfully, and I was met with the face of the boy. The pretty human. This is Michael._

_Instead of observing the person in front of me (which was a lot harder than it should've been), I decided to take in the environment we were in, the floor was covered in rugs that were colored navy blue, and had a overall tom-boyish looking wall color. Similar machines to the one Dustin was invested in were neatly placed all around the place._

_“Not my fault these things are so addictive! Even if it’s not up to date with all our technology!” Dustin grinned softly at Michael, causing Michael to snort._

_“Yeah, but our date location here was my idea. Here I was thinking you would enjoy the place you chose more than the one I chose.” Michael chuckled lightly._

That sounded nice.

No J, don’t think that. You already had enough creepy thoughts. Now that I think about it, naming Michael “pretty human” was creepy too. Why did I do that? Was he that attractive?

_“I regret choosing the coffee shop. The arcade is bomb and my date location was boring.” Dustin snarkily commented. Michael laughed again._

_“I quote, ‘Coffee shops are a better first date location than arcades’!” Michael put his hands on his hips sassily._

_“You caught me red-handed, officer.”_

_“Great, now get in the van.”_

_Michael and Dustin stared at each other for a bit before bursting out into laughter. The joke wasn’t even that funny, but the two laughed so much a tall brunette had to hush them._

_“Michael!! Dustin!! Shut up! I’m paying for you guys, so you guys better be quiet, I don’t wanna get kicked out and have our money be wasted!” the taller brunette scolded the smaller ones._

_“Sorry, MOM!!” Dustin and Michael said, still kicking like preteen girls who just found out their crush liked them back._

_“Bitch, if anything Christine’s the mom.” the brunette rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and doing a amazing impression of a child who didn’t get what they wanted._

The memory didn’t last long.

Which was a shame, because I’m pretty sure it produced more questions than answers. Why was I so invested in Dustin’s life? I never showed that much interest in my other dinners. Maybe it’s because they showed so much more emotions than the other, I’m not sure.

Though the two memories were short, but I guess that's to be expected.

I didn’t necessarily eat the whole brain yet.

***

 

Yum.

Good stuff.

Think I'll save the rest for later.

After stuffing the rest of the grey matter into my cardigan pocket, my eyes spotted two items of interest. One was a small, now-cracked device that had the faded word(s?) “GAMEBOY” written on it abandoned next to Dustin’s remains, the other an orb-like crystal fixed to four small posts sitting on the table adjacent to me. I'll just take those as well.

Satisfied, I clumsily stand back up. To my surprise (as well as relief, seeing he was still alive), the pretty human was looking back at me.

“…Jeremy…!?” he stammered.

Huh?

What did that mean?

It sounded like a name.

Wait, that name came up in that Dustin guy’s memories, which only confused me more.

I skulked over towards him, and at no point did he make a move to kill me or even scream. Weird. That's what all Living did when we got close and they saw us. It's a nice change for once. Even as I was right up in his face, he didn't do anything to push me away or move much at all. Strangest of all, I was able take the guns he held right from his hands and toss them aside. Nothing.

In hindsight, it was incredibly stupid on my part getting so close without the intent of feeding, but I couldn't help it. It just felt…right, to take in every detail of this person’s face.

 _Michael’s_ face.

Michael.

His name was Michael Mell.

Wait, how'd I know that? Did…Did I know him? Did he know _me_?

No. I just learned it from Dustin’s brain memories. He and Dustin knew each other. They were – _used to_ _be_ – close.

For some reason, that made me pissed. Why though? I don't know either of them. Or did I? The memories never mentioned his surname.

Hold up. Am I remembering again?

“Puh…Puh…”

Whatever I was trying to say died on my tongue as I overheard R and C-E still munching on their meal. I had the itching feeling they'd be finished soon and come to check on me and the other remaining Corpses of our group. That'd mean they'd also see Michael. I couldn't let them. At least, not knowing that he's still a Living. I didn't have much time, so I quickly got to work smearing the blood covering me onto him. To disguise his scent.

“Wh-What are you–”

“Ssss…Ssaaafe…” I slurred. Exactly how successful I was at sounding ‘soothing’ is still up in the air. “Prrrooo…tect…you. Keep you…ssssafe.”

Michael seemed to get the message and allowed me to keep applying blood on his face, hands, neck, and jeans. Apart from occasionally flinching or shivering at my touch, he didn’t protest further. _Wow_ , _his skin was soft_.

He was also…was it called ‘crying’? The water spilling from the eyes? I didn't like that. It hurt that he was hurting. Fear was written all over his face. I don't want him to be afraid. I wasn't gonna let or let anything else hurt him. _I_ wasn't gonna hurt him either. Well, hurt him any _further_ , having just eaten his ex and all… oh shit, can't let him know that was me.

Right as I finished up, I saw R and C-E in my peripherals stand up. Looks like they're done. R narrows his eyes my way and grunted. Oh good. He bought the ruse. As the others shuffled out the exit, I turn my attention back to Michael.

“Fffff…Follow…”

Why am I even helping this guy?

Out of remorse for killing his boyfriend? I don’t know, but clearly, my zombie brain must have gotten attached to him or something.

No. He's special. He's Michael. Michael is important…to me?

I can't explain it, but I _need_ him to be safe. This unrelenting force inside me demands it. To consider defying it is agony. I can protect him. I'll be able to keep him safe in this desolate landscape where these other humans can't.

I reached out a hand for Michael, and he reluctantly accepted it. I awkwardly pulled him up and still holding his hand, ushered him along to the exit. Towards the path back home.

Wait...

‘Jeremy’ starts with ‘J’, right?

…Could that be my name?

I need to find out. _Have_ to. And I now have the means of doing so.

Michael is the key to those answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note:: A blood-link refers to a familial kinship as opposed to a romantic one, in case anyone was confused.
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to comment!


	4. Deeper into the Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael's world gets turned on its head even more.

I can't believe this.

After the zombie apocalypse happened, you kinda learn to expect the unexpected, but this is a whole new level of weird. It took some time getting used to using a gun to headshot the undead as opposed to a console controller, as did it the reality of people dying to them if they got unlucky.

Even with zombies having become the new norm for me, _never_ did I think I'd end up being kidnapped by one. Let alone the zombified shell of my (former) best friend since childhood. It was like a sick joke. Some couple of years passed after the world when to shit, I'm agonizing over what could've happened to him after he and his family went missing when the outbreak hit, wanting closure to heal the hole it left in my heart. Now that I know, all I have is the wound reopened with salts and acid dumped on top for good measure.

Especially since I know I’ll have to end up killing my Player 2.

At least I had the consolation of one last look at Brooke and Christine –that they were safe– before I was taken away. I could only hope the same for Dustin.

I was lead by the hand further outside the Uncharted parts of city limits to a deserted airport. Well, let me rephrase that. Previously assumed deserted, as I've come to learn it's a nest or mass gathering ground for Corpses in our area. Possibly one of more. Men, women, even –and I still feel sick thinking about it– elderly and young children. It was another sad reminder no one was safe or discriminated from getting infected.

The oddities didn't stop there though.

“Jere” took me through a security section, where a zombie guard haphazardly waved a metal detector over both of us before letting us move on. It felt grossly habitual, considering the common preconceptions of the undead where they were mindless shells of former humans that were only capable of the most basic primal survival instincts.

I also noticed a few Skells, a type of undead that was more skeletal in appearance and distinctly more vicious than your average Corpse, lingering in secluded parts of the area. Even more unusual was how the Corpses seemed to avoid drawing to close to them. “Jere” in particular seemed to pointedly make a sort of effort to keep a considerable distance from them, but more so seemed to want to keep me out of their sights as well. More so than when other Corpses got too close to us. Was he really protecting me from them?

I shook the thoughts from my head. I couldn't be sure of anything! The thing that was once my best friend was probably just defensive of its food source no different than I've seen other zombies feeding.

Some time later, “Jere” officially broke off from his group, and I was guided to one of the planes in the lot. He– _It_ lead me inside, down the aisle some feet away from my only known exit, and lightly pushed me into one of the empty seats. It then took a snow globe or some sort of fancy paperweight out of his– its pocket and sat it amongst the various items that filled the plane. Stuffed animals, old clothes, posters, trinkets, knick-knacks, all sorts of stuff. There was an almost homey feel to the place.

…Was everything here something brought back from somewhere else?

 _Pak_! Focus, dumbass!

What's the first rule of zombie survival? _Never let your guard down!_

Especially when you're alone with a _fucking_ ZOMBIE!

…It isn't _him_ anymore.

The next few minutes consisted of J– the Corpse and I staring each other down, the former occasionally moving around the plane. All in silence. Complete, deafening silence.

“What are you waiting for?” I braved myself to ask.

The Jere-husk stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face me. Dare I say he– _IT_!– looked…confused?

“Why didn't you just eat me back at the hospital?! Why prolong it ‘till we got here?” I continued, a bit irritably. I wanted answers, dammit! “What do you want!!”

I was already regretting speaking and cursing my damn mouth as the zombie shambled its way back over to me. I didn't have my guns because my dumbass froze up and got myself disarmed like an idiot. As for the knives hidden in my boots (for that I'm forever thankful didn't set off those metal detectors or were found at all) were few in numbers, and couldn't guarantee a successful escape or lasting weapon that wasn't mutually exclusive. Not that I had time to retrieve them anyway as my abductor loomed over me.

“Nooo…eeeeaat…” it droned out.

What.

… _What the hell!?_

As if sensing my confusion, it mimicked eating its arm to further show its point.

“So…I'm your next meal for later then?” I snapped. The thing wearing my dead friend’s face shook its head ‘no’.

“Noooo…eeeeaat…yooou,” it repeated. I hated how much it sounded like him too. “Noooot…fooooood. Kkkeeeeep…yooou…saaafe.”

That threw me for a loop again.

Why? Why me?

They don't prepare you for these kinds of situations back at the Compound! “Keep me safe”? What does it want?

It did say something about protecting me back at the hospital?? How is that possible?! Zombies aren't capable of that level of sentient thought! Christ, how is it even SPEAKING? It shouldn't be able to do that either! Furthermore, they eat live humans! Why doesn't it consider me food?! What does it gain in keeping me alive!?

God, my anxiety can't take this!

“Please…” I heard myself begging. “I just want to go home. Please, if you can understand me at all, please please just let me go!”

Pride be damned, I was scared out of my mind. Everything I came to expect from zombies was being put to the test, I was alone, near defenseless, had no provisions, with an unpredictable Corpse that appeared to be my undead best friend, with no idea what to expect next! If this is a nightmare, why can't I wake up?!

The Corpse motioned ‘no’ again.

“Noooot…saaaafe…” it said drolly. Too tired and ticked off to care, I just scoffed.

“Not safe, huh? Wonderful.”

We didn't say anything else to each other for the rest of the night. It was dark when my captor retired to the cockpit. Did the dead sleep? I don't know for sure anymore, but I'm not taking any chances.

I may not be able to escape just yet, but I'll be damned if I'm deprived of sleep too. All the same, as much as I know my mom would skin me alive she knew about what was going on, I was taking precautions as well. I held my main knife close as I made myself comfortable and shut my eyes.

If that thing decides to try pulling a fast one on me when it thinks I'm not expecting it, it's getting a shiv to the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment!


	5. Icebreakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J tries to bridge things between him and Michael...and gets more than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo sorry this took so damn long.
> 
> A lot of personal shit happened, and I haven't been able to collaborate with my lovely coauthor.
> 
> I can't promise faster updates this point forward, but hopefully won't take as long as this one has.
> 
> -FurorNocturna

Well, _that_ went well.

I got the two of us home safely, but Michael’s still scared of me. Maybe also angry too. Above all, it meant he was still hurting, and that upset  _me_ in turn. I tried explaining to him again that he was safe here (which, mind you, was a Herculean feat on my part to communicate in spoken human English), but he only seemed to get more distressed.

As it got late, I decided to give him some space and moved to the front-most part of the plane. Maybe once he's had some time alone and some sleep, he'll feel better. It does for me. The first part, anyway; the dead don't sleep. We can close our eyes, but nothing more than that. Brain-Memory sensation is the closest thing to experiencing dreams we have.

***

The first memory that I got while was that of a celebration.

_“Dustin! Happy birthday, bitch!”_

_A smaller girl with nearly identical facial features approached Dustin with a simple wrapped gift around her arm. It was a small, but it was clear the girl thought it meant a lot from the way she was holding it so dearly to her, like if she had made it any less closer to her it would have disappeared._

_“Sissy! You got your big bro a gift?” Dustin smiled coolly at his little sister. “Also, you’re eleven! Stop that nonsense with cursing!”_

_Though Dustin was clearly disappointed with his sister’s language due to his blood-linked instinct, he was feeling giddy over the present the smaller girl was holding._

_“I got you a gift! It’s like, really really cool!” the girl smiled softly, still holding her present protectively._

_“Well I can see that.” Dustin replied snarky, causing the smaller of the two to snort._

_“What is it?” Dustin continued._

_“It’s a SQUIP!”_

Wait, what? WHAT!?

 _“Ah….. a Quick?”_ _  
_

_“No Silly! A SQUIP! You always complain about how high school gives you shit and, how… like, stuff always goes wrong and I don’t like seeing you upset…” she started, appearing distressed at how Dustin’s response to her present wasn’t a positive one._

_“It sounds a lot like you just bought drugs, Izzy…” Dustin said softly._

_“It-It’s not drugs!” she sputtered, her cheeks turning red._

_“Where’d you get the drugs, Izzy?”_

_“It’s. Not. Drugs! Shut up, Dustin!”_

_“Izzy….”_

_“It’s not drugs! They said it was good! They said I should give it to you! They made me better! They can make you better Dustin!!” the girl cried out, close to having a mental break down._

_“Who? Wait Izzy, who the fuck made you give me drugs?? And did you just say you’ve taken them_ yourself _?!!” Dustin asked, suddenly becoming the one overwhelmed with emotions._

_“They’re not fucking drugs! They make you better! They can make you better Dustin.” Izzy smiled coolly, seeming to have completely regained her composure with her last statement._

_“Okay, Izzy…” Dustin started. He didn’t want his birthday ruined because his sister was on some kind of drugs or something. “Let’s just… put the drugs away and just, start my birthday..”_

I felt like hyperventilating. Those pills...they were Squips? What did she mean by ‘they make you better’? ...Did I know something about them at one point as well? Why else do I call the late-stage undead ‘Squips’? Could it be--

I was then surged with an intense new sensation. It was like a boiling feeling of such desire and relaxation that I just melted into. Once I regained my bearings, I noticed the scene had faded and another memory was now taking place. As I took a look at what surrounded me in the new memory, I could tell why.

_“Mikeyyyy! Jazz music sucks dick; stop your shit,” Dustin bantered mindlessly, meaning not a ounce of his teasing sentence._

_“Jazz music does not suck! And the only dick I’m suckin’ is yours!” Michael retorted back, causing the person beside them to burst out laughing._

_“Now you guys are making me feel like the third wheel! Stop talking about your sex life!” the person I remembered from the calendar spending game said._

Once Dustin’s gaze turned to the handsome brunette, I could now confirm my suspicions of them being at those places where they pass out weird-shaped oily stuff and the passer demanded for a piece of paper.

_“Jakeeey Deeee~, come on! We’re both poor and want some good ol’ classical date places.” Dustin jokingly pleaded, causing the most mature of the three to roll his eyes._

_“You and I both know that you two are middle class.” Jake answered back sassily, still holding his guard despite being outnumbered._

_Michael scoffed jokingly. “Middle class, my ass. More like ‘hey, my basement is my room. Wanna get hang and stoned?’”_

_“Jake, if you felt like a third wheel, why didn’t you just have another one-night stand and invite the lucky gal over?” Dustin asked, ignoring Michael’s comment, along with ignoring Michael’s protest of “Don’t encourage him to fuck strangers!!”_

_“Well, what if I didn’t want to have another pointless one-night stand?” Jake huffed, crossing his arms stubbornly._

This is when I realized why this memory was so important: not just because they were spending more calendars, but because this _Jake_ person must have been important to Dustin. Maybe that’s why he’s popping up so much. It could also be because Jake looked like he was one-third of the way to snapping and Dustin remembered this as the time he comforted his friends.

_“Did my lil’ son get a crush?!” Michael had the biggest shit-eating grin ever. “I’m so proud of my son!! Is that why you’re pretty much dropping all hookup opportunities??”_

_“Aww, I’m so proud! My boy finding his one sweet charming!”_

Dustin and Michael were acting in this weirdly playful-teasing way that felt natural, a norm for these situations. However, from this “Jake’ person’s tensing frown, he seemed...pained.

_“Jakeyyyy, you gotta let me be your wingman!!”_

_“Nononono, me! Trust your boy Michael to be your best wingman!!”_

_“Come on! Just give me a break alright??” Jake suddenly snapped, glaring at Michael._

_Dustin’s chirpy demeanor flattened as he noticed the sudden tense air._

_“I...I just wanted to.. see… how couples were like..” Jake ended the stiff atmosphere with that sentence, instead replacing it with worry and concern._

_“Jake-” Michael started, his voice traced with guilt._

_“Sorry, that was uncalled for. I shouldn’t have took my anger out on you.” Jake bit his lips hard. Dustin glanced worriedly at his two friends._

_“Uh, hey, Jake? Let’s…go to the bathroom.” he said awkwardly, guiding his best friend to the men’s bathroom, leaving behind a distressed and guilty looking Michael to sit at the table and contemplate if he went too far._

_Once the two made it the bathroom, and confirming no one else was around to hear-- which involved a lot of stall kicking-- Jake let out a choked sob._

_“I...I-I just love her so much and I don’t want to lose her but she’s so busy and-”_

_“Jake! Hey! Slow down.” Dustin hushed Jake, wanting to first hear the full story._

_“I think she’s gay.” Jake sobbed._

_“Who? Who do you think is gay Jake??” Dustin spattered, much more confused after Jake’s confession._

_“I just… wanted to know how couples normally treated each other, so I tagged along with your little dates because I thought it would be cool and I get to surprise her and-” Jake continued to ramble, ignoring Dustin’s ushers of comfort._

_“We never talk to each other anymore. She’s always hanging out with other people.”_

_“Who?? You didn’t tell me about this girl!! Who’s gay? Who’s hurting you?!” Dustin asked, a little more frustrated than he thought he would be at Jake’s rambles._

_“Chloe Valentine.”_

I let out a big mental huff after the memory ended, feeling absolutely exhausted at the amount of emotions traveling around me. All from two memories, especially that first one. Something was definitely shady about it, and worse, I couldn’t truly shake the thought of familiarity with it.

I didn’t have time to think over it much longer before a third memory came forth.

_The air smelled fresh, and the sky was beaming with vibrate colors. Dustin was grinning ear to ear so much it hurt, but couldn’t care less._

_“Jake! Loving the apartment you chose for us!!” Dustin grinned more as he turned to his future roommate, boxes surrounding the corner of every room, basically cornering each other with the little space they have in the hallway of the new apartment._

_“Yeah! My bro and I will never separate!!” Jake wrapped his arms around Dustin. These were the moments Dustin realized that. If he weren’t so hopelessly devoted to Michael Mell, he would have husbando-ed the man next to him right up._

I tried not to let the guilt eat me up with the reminder of how I took Dustin’s life and the growing number of people his loss would affect. Granted, I could’ve alternatively reunited him with them if said people were already dead-- ugh, that’s arguably even worse!

_“If we build the world up! We’ll create a world where it’s just us two, and the rest of our group, against the world!” Jake chirped softly, tightening his grip on Dustin._

_Dustin felt his heart flutter at that compliment and smiled sweetly at the taller._

_“We just gonna built a world to knock it back down?” Dustin joked lightly._

_“Yes.”_

_Jake and Dustin burst out into laughter as they cackled about how serious Jake looked at the moment._

_“D-Dude, what the fuck?!” Dustin giggled contently._

_“I learned from the best jokesters.” the former replied back._

_“The best jokester being_ me _of course!” Dustin grinned._

_“Nope. Sorry, that belongs to the Rich.” Jake continued his studious voice from before._

_“Speaking of that guy, where the fuck is he? Did he just take his share of my precious friendship and book it?” Dustin joked half-halfheartedly._

_“Speaking of friendship!! As your best friend for the longest time ever, I shall grant you the wish of being your best man for the wedding!” Jake grinned._

_Dustin rolled his eyes, but that didn’t stop the blush from creeping on his face “Oh come on, Michael and I aren’t gonna get married!! We’ve only dated for 3 years now!”_

_“And I wanna be there to tell you ‘I told you so’ when Michael proposes first!”_

_“You suck, Dillinger!”_

_“You swallow!”_

***

I never get tired of it.

Brains are amazing like that, but this one’s particularly juicy. Both its memories and literally. I'm gonna savor it as long as I can. Regardless of how weird the brain-memories have been.

Oh. It's morning already.

I should go check on Michael.

I stood up in the lazy fashion all Corpses do when they move and shambled my way to the seating area of my plane home. I hope he's feeling a little better today. I really want him to feel welcome here.

Alright.

Let's try this again. Only this time, be more…I don't know, but don't freak him out. Can't have you putting him off more than you already have. Okay, here we go.

Don't be creepy. Don't be creepy. _Don't be creepy._

I see him still where I left him last night. From what I could tell, much to my relief, he hadn't made any reckless escape attempts. That was good, since it's way too dangerous out there, but even more so at night. It's as I'm soaking in all the details of his face and glistening brown eyes do I finally notice he's awake too. And that I'm staring.

Fuck. I did a preparatory mantra and everything!

It was then that I also noticed him clutching a knife close to himself, eyeing me warily.

If I could still manage normal facial expressions, my face would've fallen. He was still tense around me. Afraid of me. _Distrusting_ of me. Despite everything I've done to show him otherwise. I'm a bit downhearted, but I understand. I've seen the paranoia this outbreak has wrought amongst the Living groups when it comes to us and preventing risks of infection, both firsthand and through brain-memories. I was naïve to think I could break past that instilled mindset in only the span of a day.

We stared each other down some more, not saying a word. Neither of us moved either until I see Michael's body suddenly shake.

 _He's shivering_ , I recognize; though trying his damnedest to hide it. Shit. How had I missed that?! I'm a terrible host! Without further thought, I made my way over to where I kept the cloth and fabric items of my collection. Clothes. Towels. Window cloth. Ah! Bed cloth! Or was it called a blanket? Stupid fickle memory.

I carefully pulled out the softest blanket/bed cloth of the bunch and clomped back over to Michael. He guardly pointed the sizable blade my direction (where did he get that anyways? I didn't see it on him when we met) and I tried to appear as non-hostile as I could as I approached closer.

Michael returned my gaze with a firm glare, but seemed to soften when I held out the soft bed cloth in offering. When he didn't move to take it, I cautiously draped it on top of him. From the looks of it, Michael was clearly surprised by the act, but didn't reject it.

“Loooooked…coooooollld…” I slurred out. “Soooooorrryyyy…I diiiiidn’t…nooooootiiice…befooooore.”

He didn't respond at first. I watched as he adjusted the blanket thing around himself in what I could assume was a more comfortable way, nestling in its warmth. _So cute_ –no! Stop it. Not now.

“Thanks,” he said at length. The silence then resumed for a bit.

“Neeeeeeed…aaaaaanyyyyttthhhiiiinng…elssssse…?” I managed to ask.

“You could let me go.” he said back curtly.

“Nooooooot…saaaaaaaafe…” I repeated.

Another sigh. “I heard you the other two times. Hope you got food somewhere on this thing if you're planning on keeping me around.”

 

Oh.

 

 _Wow_ , I'm a _dumbass_.

I really didn't think this through all that well.

Zombies can go sustained for a month after a single feeding. Living don't have that luxury. I knew I didn't have any food on the plane. None that was fit for the Living, and there was no damn way I was gonna offer Michael his ex’s grey matter to eat. I did know where I could get some though.

It would be risky however, since I couldn't jeopardize Michael’s safety by bringing him along. I don't like the idea of leaving him here alone either, but I won’t deny Michael the necessities for survival. The whole point of bringing him here was to insure that!

“Knooooooow wheeere…tooooo fiiiind…soooooome…”

Michael’s eyes widened. “R-Really?”

I nodded. I knew most of the airport layout by heart by this point, and I remember several former food spots that had leftover stock and provisions. The kind that didn't go bad after a short amount of time.

“Caaaaaaan…geeeet it…foooor yooooou,” I groaned. “buuuuuut yooooou…haaaaaave tooo…staaaaaaay…heeeeeere.”

Michael looked affronted. “Why? Oh wait, ‘Noooot saaaaafe’, right?”

“Dooooooon’t…waaaaaaaant yooooou…huuuuuuurt…” I answered back, pleadingly. I really didn't. The very idea of anything happening to this person made me want to die again.

He just didn't seem to get it.

Michael eventually sighed. “Fine. If you're sure can bring me something to eat, I'll stay here.”

I brightened a bit at that.

I then made my way to the exit and closed the door behind me and set a course for one of the food stops. Lucky for me, there's one fairly close to where the nearest entrance is from my home.

Now if only I didn't walk so goddamn slow…

Trudging along, I pass some other fellow Corpses. Nothing unusual. We all tend to just wander about aimlessly when we’re not actively looking to feed. It's been a while since I've seen this many in the lot though. Three, maybe four out here? Sure, but more than ten? At this hour?

Oh well.

It was only when I heard sniffing that I halted my steps.

Though often overlooked, zombies have heightened senses to a degree. What we lack in Living sentience and basic intellect, we make up for in increased hearing, smell, primal instincts, pain tolerance, etc. We also have…ticks, you could say, in body language that serve among us as the primary form of communication since most zombies can't speak words.

When a zombie sniffs, that can only mean that they smell a Living nearby. That there's food to eat.

I didn't have to question it since I could smell it too.

 _Michael_!

Without second thought, I spun around and started towards the scent. At the time, I didn't question how I moved so fast or without drawing the attention of others. Michael’s safety was all that mattered.

I spotted the patched red hoodie ducked under another one of the planes. Sneaking up from behind him, I shot my right hand forth and cupped it over Michael’s mouth while wrapping my left arm around his torso. Dick move, I know, and crazy stupid, but if the growing hoard heard him scream, we'd be surrounded.

Michael understandably started struggling, but quickly slackened when he saw it was me. After I was certain he wasn't going to alert the other Corpses of our position, I gently released my hold. He panted for breath as he tried to regain composure.

“Gah! _Pakshet_ , you scared the hell out of me!” he hissed in a whisper.

I responded with a glare. Well how do you think _I_ felt when I caught a whiff of your scent outside and saw that _about a dozen other Corpses did too_?! This reminded me of that anger feeling. Was I angry?

“Toold yoooou…” I ground out. “Noooooot…saaafe…”

Michael flinched and said without any trace of sarcasm, “Yeah. I get that now.”

I sighed. I had to get him back to Home. Had to get him to safety. That came first. Michael. Had. To be. Safe.

“A-Any idea how to get passed them?”

I did.

Didn't know if it was gonna _work_ though.

I thought leaving him in the plane alone while I went to get him food would work without issue, but look how _that_ turned out.

The blood I smeared on him yesterday had dried and no longer overpowered Michael’s Living scent. To get out of this, I had to disguise his scent again with “fresh” dead man’s blood. I knew how I could do it, but it all rode on one very unpredictable factor.

“Dooooo…yooooou…truuuuuuust…meeeeee?” I prompted. If nothing else, just for this moment. _I can get us out of this, but I need you to work with me here_! He bit his lip, but nodded.

“Kniiiiiifffffe…” I said, slowly motioning him to hand it to me.

Michael gaped and hesitated, but, albeit uneasy, surrendered the blade. I noticed him tense up as I held his weapon. I motioned him to be quiet before shallowly slicing my left hand with it. Michael blanched, but didn't say a word as I reapplied the lightly seeping blood on his face and clothes again.

“Beeeee…deeeeaad…” I instructed, making an exaggerated zombie imitation to drive home my point. He nodded and followed my lead as we left our hiding spot.

It was unnerving how convincing Michael pulled off pretending to be undead. Nothing too over the top, but not underplaying it either. I would've been fooled too if I didn't know the truth.

We made it back to my plane without further issue. I closed the door behind us, and Michael collapsed on the first open seat he could find.

“That was too close.”

“Toooooold yooooou…to staaaaaay…” I grumbled.

“I know, and I'm sorry I didn't listen.” Michael apologized. He had the decency to look ashamed.

“Scccaaaaaared…meeeeee…” I continued. “It coooooould’vveee…gone baaaaad. Neeeeaarly weeere…huuuuurt…”

It did. I can't explain it, but it did. Extremely so. This new ungodly fear and pain at the idea of something happening to Michael making me prefer any other torment because it would be less painful. Challenging a Squip to a one-on-one, getting shot in the head, just anything but _that_.

Michael looked up to face me, his eyes sad. “…I really am sorry. I'm not gonna make excuses. I was scared and I acted on an impulse that nearly got me killed again. You weren't obligated to do anything for me, but you spared me yesterday, and saved me again today. …Thank you, for that. I owe you my life.”

“Oooooowe…nooooothhing…” I told him, returning the knife to his hands. There was that confused look again. Did he think I wouldn't give it back? It was his. It was only polite I return it.

“…Thanks.” came his reply. I nodded back.

“I really am hungry though.” Michael continued awkwardly. “Can we try again?”

I had us wait until the lot thinned out before stepping out for the second attempt. We found our destination quickly. Michael picked out several metal cans of food of his choosing and tucked them into his hoodie pockets. I even found a new trinket for my collection, which according to Michael, was called a ‘compact mirror’.

All and all, a grand success.

As soon as we got back, Michael dug into the canned food like how R devoured his meals. I grimaced in my head; that analogy was terrible and the images it gave me were worse. Besides, Michael wasn't nearly as messy an eater. What was the point to that?

Michael then looked up and I caught myself again.

Shit! Stop staring at him, you weirdo!

A clattering noise. As it turned out, I somehow ended up knocking some stuff over that was behind me. Goddammit.

Real graceful, J.

I looked aside to assess the damage. Relief washed over me as I saw nothing was broken from being knocked over, but that still meant there was a mess I had to clean up. It wasn't too bad, just the mismatched colored cube and some of the circle folders.

“Oh my god, is that a vinyl record?!” he gasped.

Michael was up and by my side in an instant to check out the fallen circle folders. He took it in his hands and carefully traced his fingers around it as if handling a priceless treasure.

“Bob Marley’s _Uprising_ with the original album artwork?! Even before the whole Outbreak, this was hard to come by!” he beamed. “Where’d you get this!?”

I shrugged.

“Juuuuusst...foooound iit sooomewheeeerre. Liiiiiikeed iiit. Brrooought iiit heeere.”

“So you everything you’ve brought here is something you like in one way or another?”

I nodded.

“Guess I should feel flattered then.” he remarked.

What did that mean? I see something I like, I keep it and bring it home. What’s the big deal?

 

...Wait.

 

It was then and there I felt an overpowering discomfiture coupled with the extreme desire to either bury myself or combust into nothing to escape its sensation. What is this torture!? How do you make it stop?! Michael barked out a laugh.

“You really aren't what I thought…” he hummed.

My chest got the weird fluttery feeling. It happened a lot for some reason when I was around Michael. Seeing him like this made it grow stronger. A strange, somewhat discomfort but not an unwelcome one. I could think more on what it was later. Right now, Michael was happy again.

“So hey, since we kinda got off on the wrong foot, I want to give this a fresh start.” he continued, reaching out his hand. “I'm Michael. It's nice to meet you.”

I awkwardly did the same and shook his hand. “J…”

“Jay?”

“Juuuust…leeetterrr…” I replied. “Doooon’t…knooow…reeessst…”

Michael seemed to think it over a moment before he started listing off what I presume were J-letter names. “James? Jerry? Jimmy? John? Jere–”

He cut himself off. I cocked my head in bemusement and worry surged through me. Though I could've misheard it, I thought I heard him bite back a sob.

“Yoooou…ooooookaaay…?”

“I-I'm okay. Jere– _Jeremy_ was my best friend’s name. It's a touchy subject for me.” he choked out.

There was that name again. The one mentioned in that memory. The one _he_ had mentioned. Only here, it made Michael sad instead of happy. And seeing Michael sad made _me_ unhappy too. I wanted nothing more than to fix that, but how? I recalled from Dustin’s brain-memory how he behaved towards Jake when he was feeling bad.

Gradually, I busted the nerve to put my hand on his shoulder.

“Soooooorry…”

“For what? It’s not your fault.”

“Maaaade yoooou...thhhinnkk of...saaaaad thhhhinngs…”

“No, it-- it’s fine.” Michael gave a half-baked attempt at a reassuring smile. “We use to play games all the time, well, me and Jeremy... “

“Gaaay….meee?”

“Games.” Michael clarified, “We use to curse at the screen so many times in multiplayer modes..”

“Cuuuurrrse?” Isn’t that like some witchary stuff?

“Like curse words, ya know. _Fuck_ , _shit_ , _pakyu_.” Michael looked rather uncomfortable listing out curse words, probably cause he normally said them in heat-of-the-moment situations instead of the current mood he was in.

Suddenly my eyes glaze over and I'm experiencing a brain-memory despite not having eaten a piece of one to cause it.

 

_“Pakyu!!”_

_I started cockily at Michael, a small sense of pride at my victory feeling more than just welcomed._

_“Finally! Have fun recovering from me owning you at Mario Kart!”_  
  
_“Dude, I always recover at your small ‘wins’. You suck, brah.”_

_I stuck his tongue out. “You’re just jealous.”_

_“Ohhhh, sureeee.” Michael put his hands on his hips sassily, “I declare, with my whole-hearted champion video game nature that Jeremiah ‘been jacking off since he was born’ Heere, is such an amaaaazing gamer- jk, you can go suck my dick.”_

_I snorted. “Dude!! It was one time!_ One time _!! You don’t need to bring it up everytime I win in a game, sour puss!”_

_“One time.” Michael held a ‘about-to-tease-the-fuck-out-of-you’ expression, and Jeremy instantly regretted trying to convince Michael of his masturbation-innocence. “One time, said Jeremy when I walked in on him doing the do with himself. One time, said Jeremy, when I walked in on him AGAIN-dude you seriously need to lock your door- doing the do AGAIN!”._

 

Whoa, WHAT!? Not the masturbation thing, but the weirder memory thing of this Jeremy-person. What's going on??!

 

_“....Two times.”_

_“I can keep going.”_

_“No, please.” I- 'Jeremy' decided now would be the best time to change the topic to a more PG-13 conversation. “So… Are we gonna do the usual getting-high-in-your-basement-at-4-am on a Saturday?”_

_“Ahh, shit sorry dude.” Michael apologized sheepishly “Dustin and I are actually planning a small practice date.”_

_I did not like the soreness and pettiness that was brought to me at that sentence._

_“Oh uh, that’s totally okay, You can go have fun with Dustin. Can we still get high on Friday though?”_

_“Jake and Chloe want a practice dummy for play rehearsal, since Iris said she wouldn’t be here for the role.”_

_“Well, they sure picked the dummy part correctly. Don’t know about the practice.” A small part, just a SMALL part of me said out of bitterness._ _Michael didn’t seem to notice the lack of badinage in the insult._

_“_ _Heyy! Only I get to insult your intelligence, ya dick.” he grinned._

_The other boy’s upbeat mood seemed to destroy the short-lived sore-patch thoughts in my mind._

_“Whatever makes you sleep better at night.” Jeremy responded, quickly changing the subject so that he could have the last laugh in the small insult-spree “Anyways, what map next? And no, I’m not gonna choose Rainbow Road again, you always win that.”._

_“Says the guy who just annihilated my ass in that map.”_

_“And I wanna keep it that way.”_

_“Oh those are fighting words, Heere.”_

_“Whatever you say, Player 1.”_

 

“Puh…Puh…”

“Hm?”

 

_“Oh mrah mrah mrah mrah, I’m so kicking you ass, Player 2!”_

_“Now look who’s saying the fighting words!!”_

 

“Puhghh…Laaayerrr…Wwwooone?”

Michael went pale in the face. “…What did you say?”

“Yooou…Plllayyer One?” I intoned. “Meeee…Pllllayer…Twooooo?”

His fear only increased. “D-Don't fuck with me here!” 

Here.

 _Heere_.

 _Jeremiah 'Jeremy'_ _Heere_.

That was– _is_ my name!

That was  _my_ memory I just relived!!

…Oh my god.

“Meeeee…Jeeeremy…Heeeerrrrrrreee?” I droned out. “Orrrr waaaaassss…?”

Michael looked just as shocked as I currently felt. His eyes appeared on verge of popping out of their sockets and his breathing almost silenced entirely.

“Aaaam I…wrooooong…?” I questioned. I really hoped I wasn't. This felt important to me, those words. They clearly had an impact on Michael.

“I...no, you can’t be!”

“Kaaarttt….. Beeeeeaaat yooouu…. Jooookkeee…ng….” I tried my best to explain my out-of-the-blue memory, in hopes that it can somehow convince Michael of my previous identity.

“....Kart beating me jokingly?...”

Okay maybe those words weren’t the best ones to use.

I shook my head in response, and tried again. “Marrrrii...O….. Kaarrrtt..” I lifted my decaying hands in the air, before forming a sad attempt at a box “PPplllayy…. Oooon… Booxe….”  

Michael looked beyond stunned.

“Weee….. Talk… Call… Oootheer… Pl.. ayerr… Ooones… Annn.. Playyyeer… Twwwos..”

At that, a chord seemed to strike in the Living boy that made my stomach fluttery.

I watched with heavy dread mixed with eagerness as Michael started fumbled for something in one of his pockets. He ended up pulling out a folding square thing, then a paper that was folded inside. Michael unfolded the paper but didn’t show it to me. Instead, he kept looking at it, then at me, then back to the paper, then back at me. I gave him a look, then he held up the mirror to my face and shakily showed me the paper. No, a _picture_.

The two of us looked back and forth between each other, the picture, and my reflection. The similarities were too uncanny to be coincidence. That was my face. I was– _am_ the boy next to Michael in the photo. Not some look-alike or doppelganger, but _me_.

I remembered my name. I remembered I knew Michael. I remembered when we took that picture as a memento of Michael’s “forgotten” 15th birthday. I could even recall it took ten tries before we finally got the shot right.

Everything else remained a big blank.

…What happened to me?

How did I go from the Living person in the picture to the dead one I am in the mirror?

**Author's Note:**

> Read and Review!


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